


Abby Doesn't Ask

by onlyasdark



Series: Prompt-a-palloza [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyasdark/pseuds/onlyasdark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times Abby doesn't ask about the nature of Clarke and Lexa's relationship and the one time she doesn't have to.</p><p>Or</p><p>The evolution of Clarke and Lexa after the dust settles, as seen through Abby's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abby Doesn't Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people! 
> 
> I received the prompt below in my tumblr inbox and I have taken many, many liberties with it. 
> 
> Prompt: "I've been wanting a mom!Lexa/son!Aden fic? Would you consider doing one? Preferably in canonverse but AU is okay too."
> 
> It's not exactly what you asked for - not even close - but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless, friend!

 

i.

When the dust has settled and all is said and done, Abby is looking forward to having Clarke back home.  She’s looking forward to watching her learn and grow and _heal_.  She wants nothing more than for Clarke to be able to relax and drop the weight of the world onto the shoulders of someone willing to catch it. 

She’s still so young.  And Abby wants nothing more than for Clarke to enjoy what little of her childhood, what little of her innocence, she has left. 

From a distance, she watches the commander as she threads her fingers through the clipped hair of her white stallion before offering it a pouch of what Abby presumes to be seeds.  Lexa is different than she remembers her – she’s softer, slower, her cheeks hollower –  and Abby can’t quite put a finger on it. 

Maybe death does that to a person.

_“Mom, she died.  She –”_

Clarke never finishes her statement.

Lexa died. 

Lexa died and Lexa came back, but Abby figures there are certain things you can never truly come back from and death is one of those things. 

Abby is content watching the girl pack up and leave until she sees Clarke walking towards her.  She’s not wearing the Arker jacket Abby had left for her.  Instead, she’s wearing a long sleeved blue top, with a hood covering her hair.  Lexa’s head shoots up as Clarke approaches and a smile spreads across her face. 

It’s the first smile Abby has ever seen from the larger-than-life Commander. 

She stands frozen until her lips part and she murmurs something to Clarke, something too quiet for Abby to catch.  And then Clarke is nodding and throwing her bag over her own brown mare. 

Abby is on her feet in an instant, rushing to the scene. 

“Clarke, where are you going?”

“Home.”

She looks tired.

It stings and Abby can’t help but visibly flinch. 

She doesn’t miss the way Clarke’s eyes drift to Lexa’s.  She doesn’t miss the way Lexa looks at her like she’s the center of the universe, like she’s the only thing worth seeing. 

Abby wants to ask then, she wants to ask how Clarke could choose a murderer, an oath breaker over her own people.

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t.

ii.

As promised, Clarke visits a month later – 29 days to be exact – but who’s counting.

It’s summer now and Clarke looks lighter than Abby’s ever seen her before.  She’s all tan skin and golden hair.  And she’s smiling.  She’s really smiling and Abby feels her eyes wet with tears because she can’t remember the last time her baby actually smiled. 

Lexa’s with her and Abby wonders if she’ll ever see her daughter again without the lingering and overbearing presence of the Commander.  

They look familiar, more so than ever before and Abby doesn’t miss the way Clarke’s eyes drift to Lexa’s figure every now and again.  Just to make sure she’s there, to make sure she’s breathing, to make sure she’s alive. 

Abby watches Lexa lean in and whisper something in Clarke’s ear and her daughter’s smile turns into a full blown laugh.  What a glorious sound it is, so much like Jake’s. 

Abby wonders if Clarke laughs a lot in Polis. 

For the first time in a while, Clarke looks genuinely happy to see her.  She dismounts her horse and allows herself to be pulled into a hug.   

They have a bonfire later that night and Abby allows her eyes to closely follow the actions of her daughter.  The Commander is sitting close, her back firmly pressed against the log Clarke is sitting on.

Abby doesn't miss the way Clarke's hand rests upon her shoulder. 

She looks relaxed as she watches Clarke interact with Raven and Murphy and Octavia, offering a word here and there.  But mostly she just watches Clarke’s movements and hangs on her words.  

She looks better somehow.  The dark circles under her eyes have faded and she no longer looks battered, nor broken, nor bruised.  Though, Abby imagines, most of her wounds are not physical.

Abby’s not sure she’s ever seen Lexa free of her war paint.  She looks different somehow, more of this world, more human than Abby has ever seen her.

She’s pretty, oh so very pretty and so very young. 

She watches Clarke lean down and whisper something in Lexa’s ear.  Lexa’s eyes widen and her eye brows shoot up, before looking at Clarke through hooded eyes.

A – what Abby can only describe as flirty – smile graces her daughter’s lips and all Lexa can do is nod.

She looks mesmerized.  

Clarke gets to her feet first, offering Lexa a hand and she takes it with more gentleness than Abby has ever seen her exhibit.  Lexa grimaces as she rises to her feet and twists her abdomen in discomfort.

Sometimes the human body never fully heals.  

Sometimes even scars can elicit a dull, lingering pain. 

Sometimes even scars ache.       

Concern colors Clarke’s features as she brings a hand to Lexa’s stomach tenderly.  Her eyebrows scrunch and her lip quivers as she feels the scar left by the stray bullet.  Abby’s seen it before. 

It’s a miracle Lexa survived, Abby knows this and Clarke knows it as well.  

With her eyes never leaving Clarke’s, Lexa covers Clarke’s hand with her own.  Clarke intertwines their fingers and drops their hands, easily leading Lexa towards the Ark.

“You two want to fill me in on anything?”  Raven asks the two delinquents and they divert their eyes. 

Octavia shrugs and Murphy offers nothing.  He looks into the fire, eyes far away now.  He bites his lip before shaking his head and excusing himself.  It's the closest thing to sadness Abby has ever seen in Murphy's eyes. 

Murphy was there.  Murphy watched her die, too. 

And Abby wants to ask why Clarke brought the Commander in the first place and why Clarke insisted they share a room, a room with one bed, but she doesn’t.  She wants to ask how is it that the Commander of 12 armies can look like a young girl in love.   

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t.

iii.

When Abby visits Polis and asks to be taken to Clarke’s room, the guard looks at her and cocks his head to the side.    

“Wanheda’s room?” She clarifies and while the guard nods in understanding, leading her through the corridors to a clean but rather empty room that used to be Clarke’s, but she finds none of her belongings there. 

“Wanheda’s room,” he declares, before bowing his head and turning to leave.

“Wait, Ryder,” she calls, “Where’s Clarke?”

Ryder look uncomfortable with the question and answers hesitantly, “With Heda.”

The double meaning is not lost on her. 

Kane says nothing.

When Abby finishes settling down, her and Marcus make their way to the markets.  She promised Raven she would find her fur for her new bed.  They wander aimlessly and Abby finds herself admiring this aspect of Grounder culture. 

Polis is free and wild and beautiful.  It’s alive with children and colors and art.  It’s no longer difficult to image how Clarke found a home in Polis. 

Her eyes catch sight of blonde hair and she turns to see Clarke and the Commander, always the Commander.  She watches as Lexa lifts an oversized straw hat and places it on Clarke’s head.  The gesture is almost playful and Clarke looks up, biting her lip as the hat slides over her eyes.  Her daughter giggles, teeth shining.  

Abby hears Lexa chuckle then.  It’s soft and subtle but it’s there.  She fixes the hat and reaches to push back any stray hairs.  There’s something so intimate about the gesture that Abby has to look away.  

She doesn't miss the knowing smile playing at Kane's lips.

And when Abby finally makes eye contact with Clarke she wants to ask her why for the first time in months, she has hope in her eyes.  She wants to ask if Lexa put that hope there or if she restored it.  She wants to ask why she’s never seen Clarke look at anyone the way she does at Lexa, but she doesn’t.     

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t.

iv. 

When the arrow pierces Lexa’s shoulder Clarke is the only one who screams.  Abby watches Lexa fall from her horse onto the cold, wet forest floor with a thud.  Clarke is beside her in an instant, almost herself falling off her horse herself in an attempt to get to Lexa. 

If the arrow didn’t kill her, the fall may have done it because Lexa isn’t moving and Clarke is hysterical. 

In hindsight, she should have put two and two together then because Abby isn’t sure she’s seen Clarke like this since the day Jake died. 

Clarke is shouting orders as she grabs Lexa and cradles her to her chest, the arrow sticking out just below her collarbone. 

Her ribcage is rising and falling. 

Abby is off her horse before Clarke has the chance to call for her. 

“You need to save her,” she’s pleading with tears openly stream down her cheek.  She wonders if this is how Murphy saw her.

Abby’s heart breaks but she offers Clarke no promises, no false hope. 

She breaks off the end of the arrow and pushes it through, watching the black pour out at an alarming rate.  She sticks her hand out, calling for something to stop the bleeding and Ryder rips off a large portion of his shirt, handing it to her. 

She pushes down as hard as she can and hears the girl whimper.  The girl.  She’s just a girl then, Abby realizes, not the Commander, not the legend, not the God.

Clarke is whispering soothing words in her ear – in a language completely foreign to Abby – and running her hand through her hair.   

The bleeding does stop and Abby goes to work, focusing on carefully threading the needle through tattered flesh. 

They carry her back to camp and she has to beg Clarke to relinquish her grip long enough for Ryder to get Lexa on a makeshift stretcher and carry her to Arkadia.  He places her on the bed, her eyes closed but breath steady, and she looks so small.

Clarke doesn’t leave Lexa, not to eat, not to sleep, not to bathe.  She sits, holding the Commander’s hand in hers for hours.  Occasionally she puts her head down on the bed, next to Lexa’s hand, but she shoots up every couple minutes, her mind playing tricks on her. 

As per Clarke’s request, Abby stays in the infirmary.  She’s lying in a bed across the room from Lexa’s, facing the wall and listening to Clarke’s quiet sobs, until she hears a gasp followed by: “Lexa, you’re okay” and “I’m here” and “Don’t you dare put me through that again.”

“Clarke.” The commander’s voice is dry, weak, but she’s alive and Abby breathes a sigh of relief. 

“The first time was bad enough and I was –” Clarke’s words are cut off.

“I will never leave you.” And Abby isn’t sure she’s ever heard the Commander’s voice sound so soft, so earnest, so genuine. 

She’s just a girl, just a girl who almost lost her life – again.    

And Abby – for the first time in a while – remembers that Lexa is not invincible, she’s just a young woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders.  A young woman, who similarly to Clarke, had greatness thrust upon her.  A young woman who asked for none of this. 

She hears shuffling and shifting as well as a few grimaces from Lexa before the room goes still again and all is silent. 

When she finally gets the courage to turn around in the dark, Clarke’s lying next to Lexa, head on her chest with an arm thrown over her waist.  Their eyes are closed and Abby thinks they're asleep until she hears Clarke whisper something into Lexa’s neck.

Lexa doesn’t open her eyes but a sleepy smile appears and Abby swears she sees her lean over and press her lips to Clarke’s. 

And when Abby hears Lexa whisper _Ai hod yu in,_ in response, she wants to ask.  When Abby wakes up in the morning to find Clarke in the same position she left her in, she puts a blanket over the two sleeping figures and walks away.    

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t.

v.

They’ve had three years of peace.  

Three years of good crop yields and booming trade. 

Three years of no Clarke.

Octavia visits often though, bringing letters written from Clarke and news of her good fortune. 

_Clarke is well._

_Clarke is happy._

_Clarke has been drawing again._

Polis is to thank for that. 

Lexa is to thank for that. 

When she finally returns to Arkadia, Clarke can no longer be considered a girl.  Any trace of Clarke’s baby face is gone and while she seems hardened, Abby can see laugh lines from a distance.

She’s a woman and Lexa is still by her side.

And then, something – someone – catches Abby’s eye. 

In front of Clarke, on her saddle, sits a boy.  He can’t be older than three.  He’s blonde with blue eyes and bears a strikingly uncanny resemblance to Clarke.  She has her arms wrapped around him and he leans back into her, his hands loosely holding the reins. 

His eyes eagerly take in the Ark and he turns his head to ask her a question to which Clarke leans down, kissing his head, and offers answers softly.  Lexa turns to them, ever so often, wonder in her eyes. 

She’s just making sure this moment is real, Abby realizes.   

When they arrive, Lexa dismounts her horse first and she approaches Clarke. 

The boy untangles himself from his daughter’s arms, stands proudly on the saddle, and all but jumps into Lexa’s awaiting arms. 

He buries his cheek into her neck and she holds him for a long moment, her eyes closed.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think that that boy is Clarke’s – no.

Clarke looks up then, meeting her eyes momentarily before and kneeling in front of the boy.  Clarke motions towards her and his eyes widen and he nods enthusiastically, wiggling his fingers in the air, offering her a hand.

They walk toward her, hand-in-hand.  He looks nervous and he trips over his feet a couple times, Clarke’s hand the only thing keeping him upright but eventually they come to stand in front of her.

“Hi mom.”  Clarke starts and Abby can’t speak, she can’t take her eyes off the boy before her.  She kneels before him as he shies away behind Clarke’s leg.

“And what’s your name?” She doesn’t mean it to, but her questions come out an almost whisper.

“Jake,” the boy answers and she feels tears stinging her eyes.  Her eyes shoot up, looking to Lexa of all people for some soft of confirmation.  The woman nods.   

“Jake,” she repeats, remembering the strong arms, gentle eyes, and a hearty laugh, “what a beautiful name.”

“Mama picked it!” He says proudly, his eyes searching for Lexa, who Abby presumes to be ‘mama,’ and she swears her heart stops. 

She finally meets Clarke’s eyes then, “Is he –” she starts, the words caught in her throat.

“Not biologically, no,” she inhales deeply, “but he’s my son, yes.” Clarke answers, biting the inside of her lip.  And even though she doesn’t need it, she’s searching for acceptance and approval. 

Abby swallows and nods.  She watches Lexa approach them, her body small and stripped of armor, stripped of pretense.

Her eyes crinkle when she looks down at Jake.

She realizes then that this is not Wanheda and the Commander visiting Arkadia, this is Clarke and Lexa.  This visit isn’t political, it’s personal and understanding finally dawns on Abby.

And finally, finally she doesn’t have to ask – now she knows.  She always knew, since the day Lexa showed weakness to protect Clarke.  Since the day Clarke chose Polis over the Ark. Since her people became their people.  Since before the mountain. 

Abby doesn’t have to ask but she does anyway.

“Are you and Lexa –” she doesn’t know how to finish.  Girlfriends?  Dating?  Do Grounders even understand such concepts?

“Bound for life,” the Commander supplies, placing a reassuring arm on Clarke’s shoulder.  Her voice is full of confidence but her eyes seek approval and Abby has every intention to give it to her. 

Clarke is well.  She’s well-fed, well-dressed, and she no longer slouches under the weight she carries. 

She's happy and she's _whole._

In Lexa she found solace, in Jake she found absolution.

Abby takes a deep breath and smiles at her grandson, offering him a hand, “How about a tour, Jake?”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading. This is meant to be a one shot, but I could be convinced to continue... 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> House of Woods Chapter 4 will be up Thursday!
> 
> Send me prompts on tumblr @ --> justmenotwe


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